Equinox, The Winds Before The Winter
by KoreanAloeJuice
Summary: Approximately nine months after the Gaurdians defeat Pitch, a new Boogeyman is chosen. Maia Frightnight is the Spirit of All Hallow's Eve and, well, spirits. She's always been cautious and careful, and the only thing that being afraid has ever taught her, is fear can be useful. But a new evil grows, and she must rise up to the challenge of being a Guardian.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

In the movies, death is portrayed as graceful, or heroic. Mine was neither.

My death was a simple coincidence, a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn't a bad death, just a normal one. What happened to me happens to people all the time, and I don't remember much of the actual event, but the preceding moments are all clear.

It's an average evening, sometime in early January, and school is going to start soon. I drive along cautiously, conscientious of the softly falling snow and the light frost that lay upon the road. I smile as the glow of my car's headlamps glimmer off of a carefully frosted tree. It's beautiful this time of year and the cold is no longer the harsh, unforgiving creature that it had been over Christmas. I pull over at the convenience store and park under a tree, so that there isn't a lot of snow on my car when I come back. I pull my black leather jacket straight so that the edges of my long sleeved indigo shirt aren't visible, and then I get out. It's the end of sunset, but you can't see it, because the clouds cover the dark orange-red.

I step inside, my boots drip half melted snow onto the floor that looks like it was polished enough to be used as a mirror. I grab a box of Cheerios and a carton of milk, preparation for the morning after of tonight's sleep-over. I pay. The man smiles, neither of us realising my life is going to be cut short in a few finite minutes.

I step outside, my boots crunching in the layer of fresh snow, now white rather than the untrustworthy greyish yellow that it had been at the beginning of the winter. It's clean now; all the pollution has been washed out, a stain that has been eliminated. I climb in my car and turn the key. The engine purrs to life and I slowly back out of the parking space. I turn my car around, and I'm mostly on the road when I attempt to yank my seat belt across so that I can fasten it. I'm just a few moments too late with my seatbelt. The next details are blurry, obscured by five minutes of panic and then by what felt like a life time of pain.

When I see the headlights, I realise that they're coming straight towards me and that they're moving at one hell of a speed. I have five seconds to panic. I let go of my seatbelt and attempt to reverse away. It's a bad idea, the worst I've ever had. I hit the tree that I parked so carefully under. The car hits me.

Flash.

There is pain. So much pain. It's white-hot and blinding. It's a bright violet, the same colour as lightning. I lose focus, the world blurs, and then it becomes painfully clear. My entire life is now transparent, ghostly. Before you die, your life doesn't flash in front of your eyes, like they say it does. Rather, the scene in front of you - your death scene – is thrown into a bright light.

I realize that I've catapulted through my windshield. At first I think: Wow, you really can go flying through a windshield. Then I think, and it's with icy regret: What are my friends and family going to do when they get told that I'm dead? I feel let down. I'm not even seventeen yet! Then, everything becomes more colourless and hazy as I slowly bleed to death, and I watch as the pure white snow falls into the steadily growing pool of my blood, and then disappears into that crimson sea.

I lose focus again, and I don't really regain it. I hear the sounds of shouting and crying. Loud voices, irate voices, stunned voices and then, a quiet, calm voice. He tells that I'm going to be okay, that I'll be at the hospital in no time, but I know that he's lying. I then hear the voice of the drunken driver, the one who had cut my life so very short. I want to get up and hurt him until he's feeling the same pain that I am, but I cannot. All I can do is stare as the substance that has kept me alive for almost seventeen years treacherously flows out of me. The world dims. It turns dark, and then, it disintegrates completely. I am gone.

A/N: Thanks, to a certain someone who put up with me today while I was bugging her for help with the imagery for this scene. I probably couldn't have done it without you, because I can't remember how I did the original. *raises Korean aloe juice* To CarbonatedMilk!


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: First of all, I am so sorry. Je suis tres tres desole. I had like 60 trees worth of biology and maths homework, and then the teachers had this annoying way of saying: "Have a good afternoon!" and I feel like saying: "No, I can't. Because of you!"

So I feel really guilty for not posting for so long. This chapter is dedicated to all my followers, and to the people who favourited my story, and to the people who reviewed. Without you, I'd not be doing this. I'll put up the list of your names in the next chapter and thank you all personally. Half-term for school is also coming up, so I should have some extra time to write! YAY! Or, yay if you like this story…

**Chapter One**

Two months later

I stalk the night.

I am your fear.

I've saved your life,

At least once or twice.

I am Maia Frightnight. I died two months ago, and my life since then has not been the same. Let's walk back down the memory lane to a few moments after my life ended. I just got up and strolled away from my motionless corpse, and I thought that life couldn't get any stranger. I then met the Man in the Moon and he told me that I was chosen, chosen by him to guard world. I am the Spirit of Fear, All Hallows Eve and well, I'm the Spirit of the spirits of the dead.

When someone dies, my minions and I help the departed leave a sign for their loved ones to tell them that they're okay; we also patrol populated areas and act as guardians to those who are not supposed to die. Right now, I'm following a man who is going to step off the curb at the wrong moment because he's busy with a phone call. I'm going to stop that. As he begins to lift his foot I step in front of him and rearrange my face. I pull on the most grotesque corpse face I can think of, and for a second, the man sees me. He steps back in fright, and I fade from view, like a mirage or a hallucination. The car drives past. He is safe, and my work here is complete. He will live longer, and in seven months' time, his son will be born to two loving, living parents.

I patrol for a short time longer when I sense one of my minions. Essentially, my minions are the different facets of my personality given form, so talking to them sometimes seem like talking to myself and occasionally I find myself wondering whether or not I'm schizophrenic.

"Ava," I acknowledge her softly. She tends to be the shyest of us and she also looks the most like me when I was still alive.

"Hi, Maia," her voice is soft and she twists her straight pale gold hair around her finger. When I was alive, I loved and hated my hair at the same time. I loved it because the colour was amazing; predominantly a mixture of platinum and gold, but underneath it was a slightly darker honey blond with coppery red interspersed throughout. I hated it because I had decided that boys only like girls to be blonde when they had a tanned skin, and my skin was unbearably fair and pale. If I went into the sun for anything but a few moments, I'd come out looking like the extra red love child of a watermelon slice and a tomato. However, death puts certain things into perspective, and I realised that boys didn't like me because I was weird. I still am weird, but when you mainly talk to yourself, you tend to notice some major character flaws. I then realised that Ava was trying to talk to me.

"Maia. Maia! What's with you and always zoning out?" I said she was shy, right? That's only when she didn't know you, when she knew you, she could have quite a temper.

"Yes, sorry, what?" At my response she took a deep (and hopefully calming) breath and I giggled at her expression. She looked mildly constipated and as though she was going to burst at any moment from her anger. The fact that I was laughing at her made it worse, and she decided to take another breath. I decided not to let the second bout of giggles slip, because she was probably trying to not lose her temper because she needed my help, they all did sometimes.

"Will you teach me to shadow-step sometime? I still having trouble finding a safe patch of shadows to arrive in, and they always seem to move at awkward moments." What did I say about her needing my help? I should get a job as a psychic, I'd make millions!

I thought a bit about her problem. Shadow-stepping is how we get from one place to another relatively fast; I say relatively, because my predecessor, Pitch Black, was excellent at it and could do it in a matter of moments. It still takes us some time to get around when we just begin and seeing as I'm the only one who picked up on every one of our powers really quickly, I'm the only one who hasn't just begun. When you shadow-step, you have find a shadow you can touch (I like using my own shadow, it looks really cool) and you have to kind will yourself into it. The place behind the shadows is a place I call the Shadow Dimension. It looks a lot like our dimension, except that everything except for shadows seems transparent and smoky. When you're in the Shadow Dimension, everything moves really, incredibly slowly, except you. Though you still move quite slowly until you've had a lot of practice. The problem is finding a stable shadow to rematerialize in, as all shadows move slightly as the day goes by, and if you use a person's shadow you never know if they're going to move abruptly or not.

"I can't help you anymore than I have; I can just say that you need to move faster and that you should use a big shadow, like a couch or something. It gets better with time. Rome wasn't built in a day."

She frowns, her brows coming down in a v that looked so familiar; it was like looking in a mirror. "But you just picked it up! All our powers come naturally to you!"

"Ava, you all came after I did, I had time to practice. Not much more than you did, but I was alone and didn't have to do anything, so I had time to figure these things out."

She looked like she wanted to argue, so I cut in before she had enough time to formulate a logical answer. "I have to go, there's something I want check before I move to my next spot, so just ask Rory if you need any help."

I disappeared into my shadow leaving her looking after me with the most frustrated look on her face. Truth was, I just knew how to use my powers. From the very start, my powers were instinctive to me, a second nature. It was as though I had been born to be this version of me. Rory was another version of me. The prankster version of me to be more precise. The only reason why he picked up on shadow-stepping so quickly was because he thought it was good comedy to randomly appear near people. I agreed, but if I were to say anything about I'd be playing favourites, so I just quietly left him to do as he pleased, because at the end of the day he always got the job done, and why should I fix what isn't broken? I contemplate this as I sprint through the Shadow Dimension, but then I realise that I actually left because I had something to look into. But where was that something? In truth I didn't really know what I was looking for, it was just a half formed idea in my mind. If Pitch had existed before me, surely there were others of us? The Man in the Moon hadn't said anything but in all honesty, I don't know if he even really speaks. So far I always just knew what he wanted me to know. He's probably mute then. I find the shadow I'm looking for and carefully sink into it.

Pitch Black. The one who gave people like me a bad name. Fear isn't bad. Caution keeps us alive, and fear gives us caution. He doesn't even blink when I randomly flicker into appearance next to him, though I suppose that when you live alone in a dark hole and you only get one visitor, you'll always know who that one visitor is.

"You again."

His voice is blank, uncaring. Of course he has nothing to care about. Almost everything he ever cared about has been stripped from him. I don't know much about him, except that he did something terrible and his powers were removed and that the Man in the Moon thought that he might benefit from my company. I visit him often, and tell him all of what happens to me, but other than the eye rolls and the odd "You again," there isn't much acknowledgement that anything but the blackness surrounding him exists.

I take a different tactic today. Today his silence won't work for me. I want answers and I will get them, even if I have to scare him to death or something.

"Pitch," I say, wanting to see if he responds. He doesn't.

"Pitch." My voice now demands his attention. He doesn't even look up.

"PITCH!" Behind my voice echoes the voices of those who have died. It sounds eerie, even to me. I didn't even know I could do that. The good thing is, he can't ignore it.

He looks up at me, startled. "What did you do?"

I shrug. "I don't really know, sometimes these things just happen. Look, I don't really care about what just happened. I just want my question answered. Are there others like us?"

He looks at me. "Maybe," he says, noncommittally. Sometimes, it's easier to talk to a brick wall.

"Pitch, please."

He doesn't respond. I try again, though my patience is sure to deplete very soon. "Pitch, I really want to know. If you tell me, I'll leave you alone for a while, seeing as all you seem to want is to be left alone to wallow in your fear and self-pity."

He just glares at me and keeps his mouth tightly shut. My temper flares. I have been so patient. Not anymore. "Pitch, if you don't tell me I'll-"

He cuts me off, rather rudely. "You'll what? Give me nightmares? Scare me? Please. You couldn't do anything to me."

My temper bursts now, and rage suffuses me like a tide of poison spreading from my heart to my extremities. I clench my fists. The shadows around me ripple. I extend my fingers. They ripple again. That's never happened before, I realise curiously. I focus, willing them to obey me. They do. They surround my hands, and once again, my powers come to me like a second nature. Apparently anger awakens my powers.

"PITCH," I let the voices of the dead echo again. "DO NOT DEFY ME."

Each word hurts my ears a little bit, and I wonder how it sounds to him. Unfortunately, he just ignores me. And by unfortunately, I mean unfortunately for him. I flex the shadows again, making sure I understand them. I extend my arms in his direction. The Shadows extend to and surround him, lifting him. It feels amazing, this power, like I was paralysed and I suddenly discovered that I could walk. I make the shadows pick him up by his arms, and I make them stretch him. By now he looks completely terrified.

"Your eyes," he croaks it out as though I've been strangling him. I haven't, in case anyone was wondering.

I shake my head, my voice is harsh with anger. "I don't care. Are there any more like us?"

He looks shifty, and then he looks defeated. "Yes, there are."

"Where are they?"

He doesn't answer.

"WHERE ARE THEY?"

He looks angry now. "I was doing this to protect you. They're going to hurt you. They don't understand fear!"

"WHERE ARE THEY!" I don't ask now. I demand.

"Fine. North Pole. You'll find one there, and he can introduce you to the rest."

I drop him. "Santa? You're serious?"

He rolls his eyes and picks himself up. "Yes, you imbecile, I'm Sirius Black."

For a few moments, I'm shocked, but then the laughter bursts out, much like anger did a few moments ago. He cracks a smile.

"You joked. My, now this is progress. I'm sorry for what I just did, by the way." I smile sheepishly and scratch my head nervously.

He laughs outright now. "You're something else, you know that right?"

I shrug again. "If I wasn't me, would you be cracking jokes right now?"

He looks serious. "No I don't think I would be."

I smile, wave and step into the shadows, leaving him to stare after me in total confusion.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: This chapter definitely goes to booklover1598 for understanding what Pitch is going through. Wouldn't lifetimes of solitude drive anyone mad? I don't agree with what he did, but I can understand why he became like that. Generator Rex is surprisingly good for unlocking my creative muse, but then I have an immortal crush on Rex (I know he's a cartoon character, but his personality just appeals to me!) Oh, I'd like to point out that the more time you spend in the Shadow Dimension; the easier it is to move in it. So after this chapter, Maia's travel time is going to be much shorter. Also, sorry for the short chapter, and after such a long period of time. I am on holiday now, and will update more often but my muse has been taken up on other things, recently.

**Chapter Two**

I run through the Shadow Dimension, contemplating Pitch and his reactions. Why had he responded to violence, when I'd been nice for weeks on end now? I shake my head to myself. Maybe he didn't want to like me. I could see why. Unlike him, I couldn't sense other people's deepest fears, but I _could_ look at this from his perspective. No one believed in him, and the people who didn't need to believe in him to see him, didn't understand him. Maybe I shouldn't have been so rough with him. I sigh. I absolutely abhor feeling guilt, especially when it causes me to second guess myself on such a grand scale. What if Pitch is right and they don't like me, or worse, they_ fear_ me? Could I live with knowing that the only people that could see me (who weren't me, my minions, or Pitch) were afraid of me? It drove Pitch mad. Was I any stronger? I stop by a lake for a few moments, to look at myself and wonder if I was any different to Pitch. The water in the Shadow Dimension always interested me. Everything was constantly moving here, moving really slowly, but moving none the less. Everything, except the water. Just like the shadows seemed solid, here the water seems incredibly still. Not stagnant, but still. It just didn't move, and looking into it was like looking at a sheet of glass. It made a really good mirror, but I haven't yet tried to swim in it.

I look into it, peering at my reflection. Pitch's hair, eyes and clothing is dark, even his skin seems dark. I still have the blonde hair of my living days, but my eye colour is ever changing. Right now it's a strange gold, but sooner or later it'll change, and I never know which colour it's going to be. I can change my appearance to suit my will, even my eyes, but if I ever forget about keeping my eyes the same colour, then my eye colour changes. I focus on turning my eye colour the same colour they used to be when I was alive; grey-blue with tiny almost invisible yellow flecks in them. They morphed into that same colour and for a moment I'm looking at myself when I was alive, just without the blemishes that came with living. I let go of the magic and my eyes twist back into that alien gold. Who am I, now that I'm dead? Am I the new Pitch, or am I myself, just different? I'm going to go with the fact that I'm myself and that's all I can be. I'm not dark, sad Pitch who has the weight of failure on his shoulders. I'm happy, weird Maia, and I am buoyed by the fact that I can only be me, whether I am dead or alive.

I take a deep breath and straighten, trying to work out where North is, but I fail miserably and resign myself to using the strange natural compasses of the Shadow Dimension. One of these being the fact that the shadows here face the opposite direction to those of the Normal dimension, and if you know the time, you can work out where the cardinal points are. I stare at the position of the strange silver- white sun and decide that it must be about four o' clock in the afternoon, already about three hours since I left Ava. I mentally calculate in which direction I'm supposed to go in (this takes about 5 minutes, because I'm almost useless with Math) and I start sprinting. Maybe if I sprint through the night, I'll reach the North Pole by morning. But, how big is the North Pole, and how will I find them once I'm there? If I could use the shadows as arm extenders of sorts, surely I could use them as wings, too? I concentrate, my brow scrunching up in the effort it takes to figure out the logistics of wings. I probably looked like the Incredible Hulk taking a poo, with that frown on my face, which made me really thankful that I'm practically the only person who spends prolonged amounts of time in this dimension. The wings form and they seem to be about right, so I flap them experimentally. That, combined with my crazed sprinting, sends me catapulting into the air. For a few gut-clenching moments I fall with no sign of stopping, but then I remember that I have wings, and I start flapping again. Can I point out that flight is super hard? I keep on flapping, trying to angle my body so that I'm more aerodynamic, but the physics of the Shadow dimension are making it hard. There are no living creatures here, just their shadows, and so there is no example to follow. I persevere, not even noticing how fast time is going by because of the effort it takes to propel myself through the air. When my muscles are aching and the Shadows are flickering in and out of existence, I finally give up and let myself fall from exhaustion. I let myself fall with a soft thump into the snow that is underneath me. I lie there, heedless of the fact that it's freezing cold and that there are small tendrils of ice forming on my eyelashes and cheeks. My eyes drift shut, and I fall asleep, my body drifting back out of the Shadow Dimension.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: I am an evil wench. Feel free to stab me with pitchforks and other pointy garden implements when you come after me in a mob with torches, signs and angry villagers. I have a LOOOOOOOOOOOOONG list of people to thank. Between the reviews, favourites and follows, I _**HAD**_ to come back here. Cookies to you all!

My long list starts here:

LalaithElerrina, booklover1598, SavvyBoriquen, Super-Dash, Cawthorne Dragon, truly-madly-deeply-forever, StoryReader1996, Artemis Queen of the Night, EvaWinters, Hetaliacrazed98, The Witch of Dreams, TimeLady945, Wingstrike, delphigirl689, roelaine, FrostyGirl18445, Irene Kagamine, LoverofJack, ravenlaw13.

Chapter Three

"Hello?" Someone touches my face.

"Jack, do you really think you should be touching her? She's already freezing as it is." This voice is feminine, mildly scolding but also rather affectionate.

The cold fingers touch my face again and I bat them away, instinctively. "Leave me alone, five more minutes."

"Are you sure you want you five more minutes in the snow?" It's the first voice; he sounds slightly teasing, like Rory when he gets you to agree to something you don't want to do.

I try and open my eyes, but my lashes don't want to move. I'm transported back to the days of falling asleep with mascara on and waking up with my eye glued shut. My hands rub my eyes in an attempt to rid them of the obstruction; I feel cold spikes where my lashes should be and they melt when my fingers come into contact with them. This is the first time that I've slept since my death, and man, does sleep feel good!

When I've finally thawed my eyelashes open, I sit up and open my eyes to see a guy with white hair and the clearest, bluest eyes there have ever been and a vividly coloured girl-bird-thing. Both of them are about a few years older than me. My magic comes when I call, creating a few layers between my body and the cold.

I stare at both of them as though lying in the snow, freezing to a metaphorical death is something I do daily. "Hello, who are you? And what are you doing here?"

They both glance at each other; the brightly coloured one looking worried as the boy just grins. He speaks, "I'm Jack Frost, and this is Tooth. Shouldn't we be asking you that question?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "I don't know, should you? Tooth… You don't look like a tooth! So, why do they call you Tooth?"

"I'm the Tooth Fairy, my full name is Toothiana. Tooth is just simpler." She looks at me carefully. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine! Fine as two fine things on fine pills, at a fine party!" I think that after three months of just speaking to Pitch and versions of myself that I may be a bit…wonky. "What about you, Frosty Jack; are you fine?"

He wiggles his eyebrows at me. "I'm more than fine."

I cackle. "Good one, I'm told that I'm called Maia Equinox. Most people just call me Maia, though."

"People can see you?" He seems intrigued, "Even though you're one of us?"

I look at him, somewhat glumly. "No, not really. Only dead people and people who are about to die."

He winces, "Ouch."

I suddenly notice that Miss Tooth is busy fluttering about, barking out orders and talking to tiny, fluttery birdy-things. "Does she do that often?"

"More than she should," he laughs. "Come on, Tooth and I need to go see North, and I think you need to get out of the cold."

"Nah, I'm fine! And who's North?" The truth is I am fine. My magic normally takes care of everything.

"North is better known as Santa Clause." He laughs at my expression. "Who else would we be going to see over here?"

"I don't know, the Abominable Snowman?" I shake my head. "It wouldn't be the strangest thing that has happened to me. Funnily enough, I'm also going to see him."

He calls Toothiana (I have the urge to call her Toothy rather than Tooth) and glances at me curiously as we take to the air (my new black wings are somewhat more manageable). "So, so why are you going to see North, then?"

"To meet other people like us, though I suppose I already have," I say. "Pitch said he could help me find everyone."

Jack's face darkens. "Pitch? Why have you been talking to Pitch?"

I frown. "Pitch has been the only person other than myself who can see me for the past two months. Besides, I had to take his place; it's only natural that I talk to him, I have to learn from somewhere."

Jack looks at me somewhat suspiciously. "Pitch is the Boogeyman. He inspires fear. You don't seem like the type."

This is not going how I want it to. I roll my eyes. "Just because I don't seem like it, doesn't mean I'm not. Besides, I'm not the Boogeyman, I just represent Halloween."

He raises his eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure that there's already someone who's got Halloween. He's really annoying. I would have thought that you're the new Grim Reaper, or something."

"There's already a Halloween? New Grim Reaper?" I shake my head as we land and my wings are sucked back into my shadow. "What on Earth has been going on since I died?"

Somehow, the ice-encrusted castle-in-a-cliff that I'm walking on just doesn't do Santa justice. What happened to the ever-present Christmas lights and the reindeer with glowing noses? We step through the double doors and the inside is far better than the outside; yetis, little elves with bells, Christmassy stuff and North. Admittedly, North is mildly scary in his accented exuberance. The next few minutes are a blur of hugs and hot chocolate being shoved in my face whilst elves ring about. After two months of being by myself, it's a shock to my system, this group of friendly beings. Silent Sandy, friendly North, sarcastic Bunnymund, nurturing Tooth and fun-loving Jack are a complete 180 when compared to Pitch; and considering my only other company was depressed ghosts and myself, well, I'm more than a bit out of my depth.

Finally, I lose my patience. "Okay, enough. I'm not a unicorn; you don't need to treat me like some mythical being that recently came to life! Now, does anyone know why I was chosen, and what I'm supposed to do? I mean, I've been patrolling and stuff, but surely there's more to my death?"

Someone steps out of a shadow; when he speaks, his voice is smooth but deep. Like chocolate. "I know. Well, everyone, I am back from my holiday!"

Suddenly, I am no longer the centre of everyone's overwhelming attentions anymore. Everyone's varying reactions are entertaining, from Jack's glare, to Tooth and Bunnymund's exasperated (but friendly) eye-rolling, Sandy's enthusiastic wave and North's yell of "James! Velcome back!".

"For a year I travel to the places I've wanted to go, and everything falls apart when I'm gone!" He sounds like he loves the attention. "Jack, good to have you with us! And you, little Death, thank you for standing in for me these past months!"

"I am not little, nor am I Death." I sound a bit bored, and really, I am rather bored. "Now, who are you?"

He snaps his fingers and an orange pumpkin on spindly vine legs with a grotesque grin carved out of it appears. "Yes, to both of them. I am James Frightnight, Master of Halloween. And you are the new Grim Reaper. Welcome to the team."

I eye the pumpkin and whine, "Why does everyone else get minions but me?"

Jack and Bunny look affronted and I correct myself. "Okay, why does everyone else get minions, except for us?"

Jack nods in approval but his eyes widen as a flow of questions exits my mouth. "And why am I the new Grim Reaper? Surely there's been one since the dawn of time? Lastly, why was I under the impression that I was Halloween's representative?"

Everyone stares at me and James taps one of his feet. "Are you quite done, now?"

I nod and shrug. "I think so; I'll ask if I have more questions."

"Good. Let me start from the beginning of the surprising tale I was told." He looks at us all and there's caution in his eyes. "Grim is dead. At the exact moment that little Maia over here died, so did Grim."

Tooth is the first to get over her shock. "But how did he die? None of us ever just die."

This new person focuses his amber eyes on me, flicks some of his black hair back and points to me. "He was killed while fetching her."


End file.
